


I keep your picture upon the wall, it hides a nasty stain that's lying there

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [24]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 13:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11510544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “Tell me about your mother?”





	I keep your picture upon the wall, it hides a nasty stain that's lying there

She learned to deal with being overwhelmed. 

Ego’s planet had been quiet, with only Ego’s emotions and feelings gliding across her skin, day and night, wherever she went. The longing he had for progeny who would not disappoint him; the desperation to find the One Child who was truly his in every way that mattered. It kept him up, she knew, and he took her hands and pressed them to his face and asked her to put him to sleep. 

Any other time, he tended to forget she existed; tended to forget that she had any thoughts or emotions or feelings of her own, and she never learned to deal with her own. Only his, because his were what mattered, and her world revolved around him whether she wanted it to or not. 

And why wouldn’t it? It was all she had ever known. 

But then Ego’s son and his friends came, and Drax the Destroyer reached out a hand in friendship made by embarrassing jokes and blunt statements; the quiet mourning that filled him to his core, his heart still aching over the loss of his wife and daughter. He was straightforward, and honest, and it was easy to read him because he never minded her reading him. He was calm when everything else was maddening. 

But the others were quiet storms of trust issues and despair, anger and grief and deep-seated, badly healed wounds. She did her best; smiled and laughed and spoke with them, respected their boundaries and asked them questions and did as she was told. But she could not help being buffeted around by their feelings, not when they lived in such close quarters and she didn’t even need to touch them to know that each of them were hurt in their own way. 

She folded her hands in front of herself, head bowed as she quickly walked down the hallways of the ship; large, dark eyes avoiding looking at anything for too long because the walls held emotions like anger and hate and betrayal. She skirted around fallen boxes, hopped over loose cords, and flat-out avoided certain rooms that stank with a dead captain’s bitter revenge. 

She only stumbled upon Peter by accident. 

He was sitting in an out-of-the-way part of the ship, earbuds firmly in his ears and head bopping along to music he was slowly learning. She watched him, taking in the long lines of his legs folded up against himself; how he draped his arms over his knees, boxed in tight and small like he was hiding, despite the fact that the ship was his and he could do as he liked. 

She shifted, her shoes scuffing the metal floor, and Peter looked over at her; green eyes surprised. 

“Oh!” He pulled out an earbud, smiling easily at her, and Mantis smiled back. He held back the wince as best as he could, and she pouted when she realized she still hadn’t mastered the art of smiling. “Hey, Mantis. Are you looking for someone? Drax is in the practice room, helping Kraglin with the arrow.” 

(Kraglin refused to go near her; got skittish whenever she entered a room before he left as subtly as he could. She wondered if that was a Ravager thing or a Kraglin thing.) 

“I am not looking for anyone, thank you,” she said, pressing her hands to her stomach. She breathed in slowly and quietly, letting it out through her nose, and tried to push away the edges of whatever it was she was starting to feel from Peter and the walls. “I am just walking around the ship. It helps me clear my mind.” 

“Got a lot on your mind?” 

“Much,” she nodded, looking around. Peter shifted, waved at the spot of floor across from him, and she hesitated before folding herself down onto her knees. “Living on the ship is very different than living on Ego’s planet.” 

Peter grimaced at the sound of his father’s name, and Mantis’ hands fluttered as she tried to fix her mistake. 

“I’m sorry! I will not mention his name again.” 

“Mantis, it’s okay,” Peter said, holding out his hand as if to keep her apologies at bay. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” 

“But it hurts you. I do not want to be the cause of your pain.” 

Peter smiled, shaking his head, and rearranged himself so he was sitting cross-legged; a more open position, interactive and much more like the Peter Quill she was getting to know. 

“You’re definitely not the cause of my pain. If I held anyone associated with the bag of dicks responsible for what he did, I would _not_ have given Yondu a proper Ravager funeral.” He paused, gaze going distant for a moment, before looking back at her. “Anyway, what’s on your mind? Maybe talking about it will help out. It’s what my mom always said to do when I had a lot of stuff bothering me.” 

Mantis blinked, shuffling a little closer to Peter. 

“Tell me about your mother?” 

“Hm?” 

“...Ego would talk about her, every once in a while. His river lily whom he left behind. In a way, he did love her. But he loved himself more; loved his purpose more. I always wanted to know more about her, because he would never mention the mothers before.” She tilted her head, trying to read Peter’s expression; felt her antennae droop when he didn’t answer her right away. “I’m sorry – is it insensitive to ask?” 

“No,” Peter shook his head, rubbing his face and breathing in a quick, steadying breath. She longed to reach out; give him peace of mind, so that whatever plagued him did not hurt him so much. But he’d asked her not to do that, so she kept her hands to herself, and waited him out. “You’re fine, Mantis. Just. It’s still kinda hard to talk about her, y’know?” 

“Why is that?” 

Peter snorted, dropping his hand and looking at her for a moment. He pulled out the other earbud, wrapping the thin cord around the Zune for a minute, before pocketing the music device and leaning back against the wall. 

“When Yondu first picked me up, my mom had literally just died. I’d been in the hospital, and she had asked me to take her hand – she just wanted to hold my hand before she passed, y’know? – and instead of taking it, I turned away, because I thought maybe if I didn’t do as she asked, she’d have to stick around for longer. Maybe if I didn’t take her hand, she wouldn’t die, because I wasn’t fulfilling her last request. I dunno, I was eight and an idiot.” He closed his eyes, fingers tapping against his kneecap slowly. “But then she died anyway, and I was picked up by Yondu. And Yondu, well – I wouldn’t exactly call him emotionally available, y’know?” 

“I never had the chance to meet him, before the end,” Mantis said, voice sounding soft and small. “I saw him once, the last time he brought a child to the planet. And then he never returned. I do not know if he even noticed me then.” 

“I’ll be real, probably not.” Mantis nodded, and Peter smiled a little. “Sorry ‘bout him. He was crap at noticing anything he didn’t deem important. Anyway, I couldn’t even understand anyone for the first few days of my being on the ship, and then when I _could_ , everyone was just too scary or mean or cruel for me to feel really all that comfortable. And I was still messed up, because my mom had literally just died and I had no closure on that. Yondu never really helped me with that. He gave me things to do; distracted me by ordering me around and teaching me how to pick pockets and stuff – but I never really. I didn’t really get to properly grieve my mom. So it’s hard, is all, talking about her.” 

“I see.” Mantis nodded slowly, expression thoughtful, before she turned to Peter again. “If you do not wish to speak of her, you do not have to – I would not wish to force you to reopen old wounds.” 

Peter looked at her, really looked at her; his face an open book. Out of all of them, Peter was the second easiest to read, only because he had the nuances and subtlety that Drax, for the most part, lacked in expression. But he was open, and honest when he wanted to be, and willing to offer a smile when the moment called for it. He was not scary, not like his father at all, and she found she liked him far better. 

“Y’know what? It’s okay. I kinda want to talk about her.” He tilted his head, chewing on his lower lip as he thought. “My mom had the best taste in music in the world. ELO, the Jackson Five, Redbone... she had all these records that she’d play around the house, just always playing. We’d have dance parties in the living room and dinner was always a musical affair. When gramps would come over, he’d go right over to the record player and switch it to some of _his_ favourite songs, and we’d all just dance around together and have a blast. And she’d tell me why each song was her favourite, because each song she played was her favourite. She knew every single word, down to how the singer would pronounce them.” 

He grinned here, and Mantis watched him; fascinated by the change in his face. Suddenly he was young and boyish; carefree. It was a nice change from the morose frown he sometimes had, when no one else was looking. 

“God, I just remembered when I figured out the comm system on the _Eclector_ for the first time. I’ve always been pretty good at rewiring things, right? Used to rewire old radios back on Terra, make ‘em play when everyone else said they were broken. And I’d _just_ figured out how to do this on the ship, and I plugged in my old Walkman and _blasted_ my music on it. No one could figure out what was going on for the longest time, until Yondu eventually found me under the console, clinging to my Walkman and singing along. I thought he was gonna _kill_ me, then, he looked so mad.” 

“But you are not dead.” 

“Hm? Oh, well, no. And now that I look back on it, I don’t think I was ever actually in danger of dying. I used to do a _lot_ of stupid shit when I was younger, just to push everyone’s buttons. But Yondu just demanded to know how I had managed to get my music to play on the comm, and I showed him what I’d done because I was eleven and not daring enough to tell him to piss off. He’d looked really impressed, now that I think about it. Smacked my head and told me that I had to ask to mess around with his ship, but he didn’t make me turn off the music.” Peter paused expression far away. Mantis shifted a little, the vague sense of sadness lurking in the air. 

“What was he like?” 

“Total jackass,” Peter said without hesitation, before shaking his head. “Okay, maybe not a _total_ jackass. Yondu had his moments where he actually did pretty well by me. I have some nice memories with him, especially when I was younger. He only got rougher and meaner the older I got, like as soon as I was seen as too old to be babied, he couldn’t be seen being nice to me at all.” He frowned, expression pensive, and it reminded Mantis of Ego during one of his melancholy moments. “Which, pretty shitty, since I was still a kid when the crew decided I didn’t need to be babied anymore.” 

“But you view him as your father. You said so at his funeral.” 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, slowly, as if he wasn’t really paying attention anymore. “Yeah, Yondu was my dad. He was my dad in every important way, y’know? Taught me how to take care of myself, gave me the tools I’d need to be able to make it out in the world. He never did beat the sentiment out of me, but I don’t think he was trying so hard to do that. Let me keep my things, after all. Let me keep my Walkman and my mom’s music, and her last present to me. Her note.” 

Peter frowned again, looking over at Mantis quietly. “That’s weird, isn’t it? He never destroyed any of that stuff – just kept it locked away, nice and safe; until I could get it back myself. Like he wanted to make sure I could protect it.” 

“You sound confused?” 

“Well, it’s like what I said about my mom. I never got to properly grieve her death or get over it or deal with it. And now my dad’s dead, and I don’t know how to deal with it, because last time a parent died in front of me, I just buried it all.” 

Mantis perked up, then, eyes widening as she leaned forward. 

“Maybe I can help?” 

“Huh?” 

“I can help you with your feelings. Help you sort them out! It is what I do, after all. I will not change them! But I could help you go through them? If you would like.” 

Peter shifted again, jaw moving as he thought, before he nodded a little. He then sat up, leaning forward and holding out his hand in offering. Mantis smiled, glad to be able to help him, and reached forward; placing her hand gently over his palm, fingers wrapping around his wrist. 

Emotions not her own moved through her like feathered things and she breathed in quick and tried to figure out what each one was. There was anger, and sadness; fear and confusion and something soft and nostalgic. Each one was tightly woven together, connected by strong threads of light, and her hand squeezed over his as they pulsed through her. 

“You are angry.” 

“Yeah,” Peter said his voice a little far away. She concentrated, trying to hear him over the emotions. “Yondu wasn’t what you’d call a good person. He was mean, and rude, and would smack me around. He’d beat me up when we’d practice self defence and he was always threatening to junk my things; always saying how the only reason I was alive was because he wouldn’t let the crew eat me. He let me believe a lot of shitty things about him, and he never told me the truth about my dad, and he didn’t have the _right_ to keep that kind of shit to himself. I deserved to know.” 

“Not only at Yondu.” 

Peter sucked in a breath, hand twitching, but she kept a firm hold and after a moment he relaxed again. 

“...Mom didn’t tell me she was sick for the longest time. She waited for months and months and months before she told me. Didn’t even tell me when she started chemo. She just started getting sick all the time, and she was losing weight fast, and she couldn’t pick me up or dance around with me like she used to be able to. Sometimes she couldn’t even get out of bed, and gramps would come over those days and make sure I ate and got to school on time. She chopped off her hair when it first started to fall out, and she’d had it long for ages and ages before that. Mom was really proud of her hair.” 

“When did she finally tell you?” 

“I came home from school early, ‘cause I was sick. We called gramps, and I told him I could get home myself – I only lived down the road from the school, I walked myself there every day. I overheard her on the phone with the doctor, talking about how she’d have to change her therapy and she’d have to go into the hospital properly so they could keep an eye on her. We both broke down crying that day. But I couldn’t tell her that it had hurt that she kept that to herself, ‘cause I had just learned that my mom was _dying_.” 

Mantis squeezed Peter’s hand. After a minute, he squeezed back, and breathed out shakily. 

“...I wish I could just talk to them one more time,” he said after a moment. Mantis looked up at him, and he was staring at their hands; his emotions still knotted together, tight and tangled, but somehow easier to deal with. “I just... I want to see them, and talk to them, just once more. I’d even take weird drug-induced hallucinations at this point.” 

“What would you say?” 

“I’m sorry I was a bratty kid, and didn’t always do what you wanted. That I started fights I couldn’t finish, and I ran away all the time, and I said things I didn’t mean.” Peter rubbed his heel against his eye, frowning at their hands. “I’m mad that you didn’t tell me what was really going on. I’m mad that you hid things from me – big, important things that I should have known, but you decided I didn’t need to know. I wish I could do things over. I wish I had taken your hand, I wish I could have seen the good you were doing for me.” 

Mantis watched Peter; watched him and felt his emotions boil up and settle like the tides of the sea. Ego had never had seas on his planet – too big and uncontrollable. Perhaps that was why he could not win Peter over in the end. 

“...Thank you for giving me the things that would one day shape me; for giving me a moral compass and the brains to know when to trust someone and when to doubt them. Thank you for teaching me how to dance and for teaching me how to shoot a pistol and how to protect innocents and how to lie to get out of a sticky situation. Thanks for being a better dad than that jackass could ever be, and for giving me the stars, you old bastard.” 

Peter laughed, then, a wet kind of laugh, and Mantis smiled. It felt natural, and soft, and Peter smiled back at her, and she wondered if finally she got it right. 

“...I love you. I miss you.” 

Peter then let go of her hand, curling his fingers into a fist before shaking it loosely, and Mantis set her hands on her lap and watched him. 

“...Wow that was. A lot.” 

“It was beautiful,” Mantis said, tilting her head. “It was _heartfelt_. You have a big heart, Peter Quill. It makes you a very good man.” 

“Eh, I’m decent.” 

“No,” Mantis insisted, leaning forward, “you’re _good_. I have known a man who was not good, and you are not like him at all.” 

Peter looked at her, shuddering out another breath, before rubbing roughly at his eyes. 

“Aaahhh, Mantis, you’re gonna make me cry! Uncool, man.” 

“Everyone has the right to cry,” Mantis said, leaning back again. “Even if the only way they can cry is through others.” And here she thought back to Drax – Drax and the constant mourning in his heart; the huge wave of sadness that had slammed into her as he told her about his daughter. How she had wept, staring at a setting sun, feeling her heart break over and over while Drax had sat still and calm beside her. 

She then turned back to Peter, who was still looking away from her, rubbing at his face and taking in deep draws of air as if to keep steady. 

“Did that help you?” 

Peter turned to her, dropping his hands, before he nodded a little. 

“Good,” she said, standing up slowly and brushing the dust off of her knees. “I am sorry to have disturbed you, Peter.” 

“You didn’t,” Peter said, standing up as well. He stretched out his back, and Mantis heard the faint pop of joints cracking. “You can talk to me at any time, Mantis, honestly. We’re teammates – family. We gotta get to know each other, right?” 

Mantis blinked, eyes wide at his words, before she smiled again. He grinned back, and she felt the happiness from herself swirl around her and bleed into the air. She had never had a _family_ before.

“Right!” 

“And next time, Mantis?” Peter started, pulling his Zune out of his pocket and slowly untangling the cord; Mantis turned to him expectantly. “We’ll _actually_ talk about what’s on your mind. No distracting me with my own feelings, okay?” 

Mantis hunched her shoulders, but Peter only grinned, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. She relaxed and nodded, watching him put his earbuds back in and walk away. 

“Okay.”


End file.
